


Relief

by millenial_falcon



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Actual Adult Finn, Crying, Drug Withdrawal, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Finn Needs A Hug, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Institutional Abuse, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Premature Ejaculation, chemical castration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-20 07:25:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8241253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millenial_falcon/pseuds/millenial_falcon
Summary: The first seizure came when Finn was in his physical therapy routine, the second as he was being wheeled to med bay for the first, and from there it was clear something was deeply wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A somewhat heavier prequel to Rush/Pull.
> 
> Please mind the hairy shit in the tags.

The first seizure came when Finn was in his physical therapy routine and thank every star in the galaxy Poe liked to keep him company in his off time, because he didn't even know what happened. He remembered getting dizzy, his vision going a little glassy, and then he was on the floor. Two medical assistants were knelt over him, Poe was hanging back, chewing at his thumb and looking stricken, and exhaustion was washing over him in nauseating waves. The second seizure came as he was being wheeled to med bay for the first, and from there it was clear something was deeply wrong. After less than a week of relative freedom, Finn returned to being confined to a hospital bed.

When he comes back to himself after the second seizure, it’s to the soft pressure of electrodes on his forehead and an assistant drawing his blood. Cold fear washes over him with the thought that this is it, he’s defective and now even the Resistance is going to flush him out of their system. Despair and helpless anger quicken his breath so that his attendant acknowledges him, says something he doesn’t process, pats the back of his hand. Finn closes his eyes, opens them again to the now-familiar grey mottle of the med bay ceiling, blinking back tears. The assistant rises and leaves the room.

He could try to run, half-crippled, with nowhere to go and no one to get him there this time. He could drag himself out of the med bay, see how far he could force his recovering body and when it gave out on him hope for...what? For Poe or some other pilot to throw away their allegiance just to get him offworld? For the medical staff to find him and drag him back to his fate?

Finn swallows, nauseous again, squeezes his eyes shut. He breathes deep, fights down the urge to be sick and the impulse to cry out of helpless desperation. Part of him knows that he shouldn’t go down without a fight for his continued existence. But there’s something wrong with him. Something that the First Order did to him, or had been there already. Chills run through him at the thought that maybe this was just something they had kept in check, that leaving had been a mistake, that he was going to die because of it. Finn gasps around the lump of panic that swells in his throat, swallows and swallows and swallows as he keeps his eyes clenched shut and shakes.

Twenty minutes pass before he’s joined again, this time by Dr. Kalonia. She draws a steady breath to speak, but Finn preempts her.

“Can I,” his voice catches in his throat and he swallows to clear it. “Can I see Poe again? Before I'm decommissioned?” He would have liked to see Rey as well, but she’s far gone. Will she be upset when she learns what happened to him? With him? With the Resistance? Kalonia frowns, mouth sharp, and her breath comes out in a thin huff.

“Didn't I tell you before? We don't throw people away just because there's something wrong with them,” she tells him, her voice flinty. Finn swallows again, rolling his eyes shut as the bed seems to sway beneath him. When silence stretches between them for too long, when his brow has beaded with sweat, he forces himself to open his eyes again, catching Kalonia’s expression softened with concern. As soon as he sees it, she looks away, frowning down at her datapad. They both have an understanding that it’s a look that makes Finn uncomfortable.

“Where you're from,” it's the euphemism that's stuck with most people Finn's spoken to on base. When Kalonia says it, there's a slight curl to her lip, “Were you ever made to take any stims? Anything with regularity?”

“Supplements,” Finn supplies readily, hardly thinking about it. “After evening mess. To keep us in shape.” It’s been nineteen days since he got out, 20 since he checked in with Medical. From her slow inhale, Finn guesses this was both something she expected and didn’t want to hear.

“Can you estimate how long you were given these supplements?” Kalonia asks tersely.

“Well,” Finn speaks slow, self-conscious, thinking out loud. “We started on them a little after we began CQC so...13 years?” He hesitates before voicing his suspicion, “This is why I'm sick, isn't it? I didn't report in to the dispensary and now I'm getting sick because I failed to maintain my own health.”

Kalonia’s expression slips back towards sympathetic just a fraction as she sighs. “No,” she tells him, quick and sharp. “Well...no. This isn’t your fault, you didn't fail to do anything. It’s not standard practice to distribute drug cocktails to personnel here, certainly not to someone as otherwise healthy as you, so it didn't occur to anyone that something like this might happen.” She pauses, brows dropping back into a slight scowl. “What has happened, however, is indicative of stabilizer withdrawal. We've got you on drip for those now. We'll have to wean you off of them slowly if we want to avoid further seizures. But they're not the only thing those people pumped into your system, so I'm keeping you under observation for a few more days and you should know that things are going to get rough before they get better.”

Finn nods carefully, still queasy, turning his gaze down to his hands in his lap. It’s as if a chasm of normalcy between him and Kalonia has yawned open in his chest. With a wince he asks her to explain the whole of his predicament to him, in fine detail.

None of them had ever questioned that the First Order had their best interests in mind. They were told that the pain they experienced made them stronger, that their superiors were looking out for them, guiding hands who were helping them realize their full potential. Finn lays on his back with his eyes closed and bites his lower lip as Kalonia explains how that guidance had gone as deep as manipulating his physical development, and in doing so made him dependant.

She outlines for him what symptoms to expect - the nausea and sweats that have already set in, the shakes and physical illness that may come later. She tells him she's keeping him under observation because some of the outlying symptoms of what their bloodwork picked up in his system are more injurious. Finn questions the need to pull him off whatever she's worked out is in him, if doing so will only make him sick.

“This is all only temporary,” Kalonia stresses, concern pinched on her brow. “You are otherwise in exceptionally good health. Nothing those people gave you is necessary or beneficial to you and, in fact, continuing will likely create long-term complications.” She pauses, gives him a searching look for a brief moment before adding, carefully, “Stabilizers may be something you find helpful in the future, but lacking a diagnosis I am not qualified to give, it would be unethical to prescribe them to you currently.”

The question of ethics is something that Kalonia holds to strongly. It's not the first time they've come up in conversation with her and she seems to take personal affront to what she deems ethical violations in the little glimpses of his former life that Finn has given her. It's surprising and a little strange to encounter, but it also bolsters Finn to find himself among other people to whom empathy comes easy. With this in mind he swallows a deep breath and licks his lips before speaking.

“Can I see Poe?” he asks again, earning himself a small snort that is not entirely without humor. He cocks his head a little in confusion and the otherwise stern look on Kalonia’s face softens slightly.

“I'm sure he'll be happy to finally be allowed in the bay,” she offers by way of explanation. With a small nod she excuses herself. Finn smoothes the blanket covering him and swallows deep to clear some of the clinging nausea. He only has moments before Poe is striding into his room, slightly flushed, hair a little wild. His eyes are a bit glassy, but he's smiling, and Finn can't help but return it. Tension is pinched on Poe’s brow, at the corners of his eyes and mouth, and his voice shakes faintly when he greets Finn with a soft, “Hey, buddy.”

The whole display makes Finn’s chest feel tight and his throat thick. He pats the edge of his bed nearest where a chair has been placed as he swallows to speak.

“Well, I'm not being decommissioned,” Finn tells him with a reassuring smile. The choked, wet laugh that rattles out of Poe in response startles him.

“Was that ever in question?”

Finn looks away from the borderline desperate expression on Poe's face, down to his own hand laid on the bed. Poe follows his gaze and seizes it, palm warm against his skin, gripping his fingers with a slight tremor. Finn exhales small relief, closes his eyes and begins to relay everything Kalonia told him.

\--

As far as he can tell, Poe uses every free moment he has to stay with him. The chaos of their relocation has settled significantly since Finn was first brought out of his coma, and Poe seems to have enough authority to shuffle around some free time for himself for a few days.

“Oh, I'll be up to my neck in supply runs for the next couple’a weeks,” he laughs when Finn asks if it's really okay, thumb rubbing reassuringly over the back of his hand. Finn still isn't sure how to handle the physical interactions that come so easily to Poe, but he's moved into a fever stage on top of his nausea, and the touch is a welcome distraction. The night before he had been rattled to semi-lucidity by another fit of shakes, drenched in sweat, to the feeling of a cold compress on his brow and the sound of Poe's voice, low and melodic and soothing. His presence is calming, even when Finn is in his lowest states, violently sick or scarcely coherent, and in his clearer moments Finn worries about doing something to lose that attention.

The second night into his fever, Finn wakes up to the med bay’s semi-dark and the sound of Poe breathing. His upper torso is folded over the edge of Finn's bed, arms pillowing his head and hair hanging in his face. His jaw is cast in deeper shadow by his slightly unkempt stubble and the lines on his face etch out his features. Finn blinks slow through the waves of sickness that have gripped him, dawning horror seeping in around the edges as he realizes that, under the fever heat, his dick has been hard since he woke.

He swallows, throat tight, wrenches his eyes away from Poe. Incredulous, he slips a hand under his covers, under his loose pants, jumps with a gasp when his fingers brush over his own stiffened flesh. The electric thrill that races up his spine reminds Finn of the Checkpoint Rewards from his fire team’s advanced sims. For a long, crushing moment Finn can smell the strange, asynchronous way sim air always smells. It lurks under the antiseptic scent of the med bay and Finn can practically see his helmet’s HUD floating mission parameters and checkpoint criteria before his eyes.

Snatching his hand away from his skin quickly, Finn drags himself up onto his elbows. He struggles to breathe out the wheeze in his throat, eyes jumping around the room, trying to catalog and focus on familiar points. As his gaze falls on Poe, he shudders out a thin breath.

“Poe,” he hisses, twisting a little to barely nudge his shoulder, trying not to jostle himself too much. “Poe, something’s wrong, please.”

With a sharp inhale, Poe's head snaps up, making Finn jerk back quick. He groans as the motion runs little fingers of pleasure through him, shortens his breath. When he looks back, Poe is staring at him blearily, expression confused and still muddled with sleep.

“What- what is it?” he asks, urgent and a little slurred. He lays a gentle hand on Finn's forearm and his touch is too hot, too overwhelming. Finn bites his lower lip to swallow the nauseous upswell of embarrassment and paranoia that rises in him. When he doesn't respond immediately, Poe squeezes his arm and pushes into a stand. He staggers a little on sleepy legs, but is still quick crossing the room as he tells Finn, “I'll get someone, don't worry.”

“No no! Poe, wait,” Finn sits up quickly, reaching out to beckon Poe back, and cuts off with a sharp hiss. He curls over himself, groaning, moving his legs wider. He drapes his arms over his knees, rubs and buries his face in his hands as Poe's footsteps move away from the door, back towards him. A hand folds gently over his shoulder and Finn's breath hitches as its warmth trickles right down into his gut.

“Oh, I'm kr’d,” he mutters softly, hands wiping down to cover his mouth, whispering a small, “fuck...fuck.”

“Finn, buddy, what's going on?” Poe's voice is rough and concerned and he squeezes Finn's shoulder with just the right amount of firmness to pull a weak whimper from him. Finn hides his face in his hands as embarrassment burns down the back of his neck, confuses with the fever flush through his body and the heavy heat between his legs. Poe withdraws his touch carefully. Finn's breath quickens with the fear of discovery. His head buzzes and he scrubs his face again, swears under his breath. Poe fidgets beside him but keeps his hands to himself. It's both a relief and a charge ratcheting up Finn's anxiety.

“Just tell me what you need and I'll help you out,” Poe offers urgently. Finn's stomach turns but he still manages to force a look up at Poe, breath heavy and short. Bare concern is written in every line of Poe's face and with a helpless frown Finn resigns himself. Wordlessly he looks away before gesturing one hand sharp between his legs. When he's answered with only silence, he risks a slow upward peek. Poe is looking at him blankly, head slightly cocked. Frustrated, Finn gestures again, both hands involved, unintentionally hitting the blanket tented across the gap of his bent knees.

“I'm not supposed to be like this,” he hisses, voice low to avoid detection. Poe draws his head back, draws his brows up, blinks. Comprehension is slow to dawn on his face, dragging Finn's nerves ragged along with it.

“Wait, you're,” Poe's mouth tics a little, his voice is breezy. His eyes dart down to follow the line of Finn's gesture and jump back just as quick to his face. “...What?”

There's a hint of humor trickling into his demeanor that is going to spin Finn's panic completely out of control.

“This is not normal!” he grinds out, trying to impress upon Poe the seriousness of his predicament. He's answered with a squint, confusion cinching Poe's brow, tightening the lines around his eyes.

“Hey man, of course it's-”

“No,” Finn cuts him off, “you don't understand, this has literally never happened to me before.” He shifts carefully yet still jostles enough to give himself another aching jolt. A deep whine presses against the back of his teeth and he swallows hard. Poe has frozen, staring at him agape, color fanning across his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“O-oh!” he starts, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Well, uh, see, when you-”

“I swear by the Order, Poe, if you try to explain basic human biology or erections to me, I will never speak to you again,” Finn clips out with another uncomfortable shift. Poe’s mouth snaps shut and he looks away, wincing out a “right, sorry,” as he palms the back of his neck.

Fear and arousal twist Finn’s stomach in opposite directions. He fidgets, trying to find an upright position that doesn't put unnecessary pressure or friction on the heavy weight between his legs. Hunkered over his knees, thighs spread and elbows supporting his weight, he runs a hand over his short hair with an exasperated sigh. “Shit, how do you people deal with this all the time?”

A startled laugh bursts from Poe. The sound rubs Finn’s emotions raw. “I mean,” he coughs, voice stilted with what could be embarrassment or humor, possibly both. “Puberty makes flailing goons of the best of us, but that's...that's teenagers. That's what? Ten years behind you? How have you never…?”

He trails off as Finn winces up at him. “It wasn't allowed,” Finn explains. “They told us that it might happen and that it was a distraction from duty and to report it if it did so we could be tested for defect.”

The already awkward mood chills as a stony look settles over Poe's face. “It was never a problem after that,” Finn licks his lips nervously, fumbles with his blanket. “I think…” his voice drops quiet, “I think it might be because of the withdrawal. I think...what they gave us, that was part of it.”

“That's sick,” Poe snarls. Finn averts his eyes from the ugly look on his face, stomach clenching around the shame it settles in him.

“Yeah, that seems to be the common consensus,” he mumbles miserably. He turns his face away to spare Poe the uncertain twist of his mouth.

“You...get that, right?” Poe presses and a short laugh jumps from Finn's throat, flat and brittle.

“Do I?” he looks back up. His body is wound tight and rattling with the tension and Poe's giving him the look he hates without even realizing it - the one that's all pity and patronizing concern smeared with a sympathy that feels profoundly misplaced. Finn swallows.

“It's just...there's so much that I took for granted and then I mention it to someone here and you all give me this horrified look and it-” he stops, swallowing again and looking down at his fingers making knots. “It just feels so gross. Like I'm fucked up for thinking that's normal. Like I'm so wrong and broken I'll never be fixed cuz how the fuck do I even know where I'm supposed to start?”

Finn's voice cracks and his hands grip themselves to shaking. Poe says his name, sad and urgent, and the tightness in his voice, the hand that squeezes so warmly around his bicep does him in. He sags into the touch, arms winding around Poe's waist to reel him in, forehead pressed against his flank. A palm runs gently over the back of his head, strokes comfort through his hair, remains gentle even as he hides his face and his shoulders shake.

As a cadet he had only ever needed to be disciplined once for crying. The heavy-gauntleted backhand that rocked his head and the shame of being singled out from the rest of his unit, their instructor snarling at him for his selfishness, had been enough to stymie any repeat offense. He hadn't cried even when he felt Slip die, there had been no time, and now he's making up for it. Because Poe is letting him cling, wrapping around him instead of telling him to pull himself together, stop indulging in such an obscene display. Because he would be so upset if Finn told him he hasn't cried since he was punished for it when he was seven. Because Poe's telling him, “We'll help you figure it out,” and, “It's not your fault,” and it's undoing him entirely.

He doesn’t know how long he cries. As he tapers off, drained of pent up grief, exhausted by its outpouring, Finn realizes he's still half hard. The mixed groundswell of emotions so long repressed for survival and the warm comfort of Poe's body tighten his chest with awkward conflict. He nuzzles his face against Poe's belly, hugs him tighter, eliciting a watery laugh from above him.

“I got your shirt wet,” Finn mumbles apologetically, drawing back and addressing Poe's belt and the tear-stained patch on his front.

“I think it'll recover,” Poe says with another thick laugh. His hand squeezes Finn's shoulder as the other leaves him, draws his attention up towards Poe's weak sniffle. Confoundingly, Poe apologizes, averts his face slightly to hide the trace of sympathetic tears on his cheeks. “Sorry,” he tells Finn in a mumble. “I shouldn't be- you don't need this-”

Finn leans back, that bolstering sense of belonging returning, thrumming through his limbs even under the rattled out exhaustion of sickness and emotional drain. He reaches for Poe, pulling him down by his wrists gently. The sink of weight on the edge of his bed shakes a small reminder of his arousal through him. Finn wraps himself around Poe despite it, a little because of it, palms flat against his shoulderblades and face burying into the side of his neck. Poe returns the embrace easily. His arms fold him up and his scent coils around him and Finn sags into the comfort of it all with a relieved sigh, clings tighter. They've hugged before, of course, Poe is free with his physical contact, but in the low light of the nighttime med bay and the wake of scrubbing his emotions raw, the contact between them feels different, more intense than it even usually is to Finn. Poe must notice it too, because the smallest tremor of energy hums against Finn's arms around him and he tucks his chin over Finn's shoulder, jaw lightly prickling his neck.

“This is not how I imagined this would go,” he half mutters, a little hesitant with a hint of chagrined laughter in his voice. Finn cranes his head back to peer at him.

“How you thought what- wait, you...thought about me?” The question actually does startle a laugh out of Poe, who leans away to better look him in the face.

“I didn't think I was being particularly subtle,” he chuckles, like it should be obvious. Something of the way his incredulity sinks embarrassment and a stifling sense of wrongness back into his gut must show on Finn’s face, because Poe's expression drops fast into concern. “That isn’t something you'd be keeping an eye out for, is it?”

The soft look makes Finn want to curl in on himself and disappear. His fingers clutch at Poe's shirt and he hides his face back against his shoulder. “I just,” Finn pauses, takes a deep breath. “I guess I just thought it didn't apply to me. That I'm not the kind of person someone would-”

“ _Ay coño,_ ” Poe interrupts him vehemently, one hand grasping at the back of his neck. “Fuck, Finn, of course you are!” The arm he has slung down Finn's side, around his waist, squeezes a little tighter and he shifts so that their faces rest together, cheek to cheek. “Of course you are,” Poe murmurs again, lips just shy of his ear. The warmth of his body and in his voice, the prickle of his stubble and the determined embrace of his arms, runs heat through his chest and stomach, even as Finn has to tamp down the urge to start crying again. Instead, he eases back, surprised as Poe's hand slides from his neck to his shoulder to let him go. Finn angles his face to look at Poe, meets his eyes and swallows the emotion that rises in his throat at the soft concern and care and slightest bit of hope he finds there. He cups Poe's jaw, thumb tracing his stubbled skin and gaze dropping to his mouth. He pulls a little as he leans in, hearing, feeling Poe's soft inhale, seeing the small parting of his lips just before he touches them with a tentative kiss.

Fingers clutch his shoulder and Poe's palm flattens against his lower back, just beside the termination of his scar. Finn's eyebrows go up at the way Poe melts into him readily, his soft sigh fanning against his cheeks, so distracted by his reaction that he breaks their kiss. He keeps his hand cupped to Poe's cheek, commits to memory the guileless, open look on his face, and before Poe can come back to his senses, pulls him in again. Poe wets his lips against his and Finn chases his tongue on instinct, coaxes his mouth open, draws a soft groan from the back of his throat. Sparks fire behind his closed eyes as Poe dives deeper into their kiss, skitter down his spine and through the aching muscles of his back when he nips and sucks his lower lip, make him fidget with rekindled arousal under the squeeze of Poe's hands on his waist and upper arm.

The awkward twist they both have to hold together gets to the still-healing muscles in Finn's back far sooner than he'd like. With a tired sigh, he pulls away from Poe, shifts, grunts, winces. Poe's eyes study his face, quick on the uptake, and his palm at the small of his back readjusts into more supportive pressure.

“Your back?” Poe asks with a new husky tone to his voice that stirs Finn's blood. He nods as he eases back onto one elbow, regretting the further distance it puts between him and Poe.

“Need to lay down,” he says with another pained little grunt. His fingers trail down Poe's arm as he eases back, anchoring himself from the swimming feeling still knocking around his head and keeping Poe from withdrawing. “Come with me?” he asks, voice a little dreamy with exhaustion, and smiles as he catches the hungry look that steals across Poe's face. Finn tugs lightly at his wrist and Poe lets himself be led easily.

“Are you sure?” he asks as he leans in, breathless and eager, cautious and oh so considerate. Finn knows that he has a skewed sense of privacy, that he used to sleep 12 to a room, three fire squads stacked in shelf bunks four high like tools in storage, and he knows that around here pretty much everyone considers it a big deal to ask someone into your bed. He nods, face close to Poe's, pulling him up and down and over him, breathing a soft “yeah,” against his lips. His hand slides up Poe's spine, keeps them pressed together at the chest as he sinks back into the relief of his bed. One of Poe's elbows comes down next to his shoulder, propping his weight. The other hand squeezes warm on his side as Poe moves light kisses past the corner of his mouth and over his cheek. Finn tips his head back with a soft sigh as Poe's lips work their way along his jaw, back towards his mouth, distracting from his dizziness, threading it with desire. He closes his hand on Poe's elbow with a squeeze and a soft “C’mere,” because Poe has settled above him, body against his but hips still twisted away, legs hung a little awkwardly off the edge of his bed. Quiet laughter brushes his skin, makes his breath quicken and his scalp tingle when Poe kisses him, gives him a soft murmured, “Right here.”

“No, _actually_ come here,” Finn urges in the small space between their mouths, smiling, hand drifting from elbow to waist, giving him an insistent tug. Poe chuckles softly before answering with the quickest peck of a kiss.

“Still got my boots on here, buddy,” he says with a warm grin, pressing another kiss to Finn's jaw.

“Then take them off,” Finn shoots back, palm running flat over Poe's belly. He feels muscles tighten under his hand and Poe leans back, licking his lower lip, studying Finn's face with heavy lidded eyes. With no comeback, he sits up, bends to tug his boots off. They're already unlaced, Poe tends to leave them undone on his downtime, and Finn's hand meanders a path down to his thigh as he yanks his feet free.

“Anything else you want me to take off?” Poe teases, bright-eyed and grinning crooked. Without hesitation, Finn takes a fistful of the hem of his shirt, biting his lower lip and matching Poe's half-smile. He watches the look on Poe's face fall away like a bad bluff, sees the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows and replaces it with something more raw and honest. Finn's fingers slip away, give Poe's room to hitch the cloth up. Poe stretches a little, twists a little to wrestle himself out of his top, and never in a lifetime of group showers and shared changing routines has Finn found the reveal of bare skin so attractive. The shirt comes away with a final tug that leaves Poe's hair disheveled and is scarcely cast aside before Finn has a hand on Poe's arm pulling him back down. He plunges fingers into his hair from the other side, drags Poe into a kiss hard and wet enough to make him groan in pleased surprise.

Poe bounces Finn's enthusiasm back at him, elbows bracing his weight, leaning down against him. He breaks, pulls away only to shift and crawl up beside him, and Finn edges back a little to try and make room on his decidedly single-person cot. They rearrange, negotiate space, blankets pooled around Finn's hips and tangling his legs, the flash of Poe's smile glinting above him in the low light, the heat and pull of his bare skin under his palms. Poe's leg nudges up under his and Finn is sharply reawakened to the awareness of the heat and weight and thick arousal of his own cock. With a gasp and a groan, he tries to roll away, shift off pressure, but Poe catches him by the front of his shirt, pulls him up to rest on one side. His other knee slides between Finn's, legs trapping his thigh, ankles tangling him up. With a soft, easy smile, he brings their bodies back together, pulls Finn's arm from underneath him to twine it with his own, pillowing his head. His palm slips under Finn's shirt, over his hip, and Finn leans into the invitation, stomach flipping, hand dragging hungrily over bare skin and fingers clutching at Poe's hair, nearly rolling on top of him but for the twinge in his back. He kisses him deep, edges his bottom leg up just barely and swallows Poe's gasp, clutches him tight as he feels Poe's cock hard against his thigh.

Hips rock towards him and his body responds in kind when Poe shifts, gives him his own soft, hot pressure to grind against. Finn heaves a ragged breath, groans and bucks again, digs nails into Poe's back as fingers clutch his exposed hip, kisses and hides his face against Poe's shoulder, sinking into his scent and the little gasps he leaves behind as his lips suck a trail back over Finn's neck.

“Tell me what you want,” Poe says soft, breath warm and damp on his skin, mouth closing on his earlobe. Finn draws a shuddering breath, tilts his head back. He finds himself lost to articulate how badly he wants Poe's hands warm against every inch of his skin, fingers tracing the lines of his body, palms holding him in and down and centering him, scattering him.

He settles on breathing “Touch me,” into Poe's hair and relishes the shaking inhale and the full-body shiver it gets him. Nails trace lightly down the line of his abdomen, fingers hook in the waist of his loose med bay pants, hesitate. Finn hauls Poe's head away from his neck by the hair, crushes their mouths together sloppily, bites Poe's lower lip and mumbles an urgent “Please,” against the raw groan that answers him. Poe's hand plunges lower, pads of his fingers skimming through tightly wound hair, and Finn jumps and gasps and jerks towards the loose grip that curls around his bare erection.

The touch is almost too intense, almost painful, the heat of Poe's palm searing against his crown, calluses rough on tender skin. Finn arches like a bow, draws his chest and middle away from the sinking warmth of Poe's body, clutches his shoulder and scrapes nails against his scalp. Mouth slack, eyes shut, he rolls his hips towards Poe, pushes his leg up between his thighs and feels his answering buck and pant of breath on his neck. All the tension and anxiety and body-shaking exhaustion and relief of the night slithers out of Finn's shoulders, down his spine, into the tightening pressure in his balls. It skitters up his shaft under the firm, gentle stroke of Poe's fingers, dragged along just under the surface for one, two pulls before Finn is swept away entirely, spurting over Poe's wrist.

He buries his face in Poe's neck with a broken moan, gripping onto him like an anchor as Poe drains him, empties him against his skin. Somewhere in some self-conscious part of his mind he knows it was too quick, but Poe is surging against him with a raw “Fuck...Finn,” pulling against the grip in his hair. His thighs squeeze around either side of Finn's and his hips rock, grind his cock into the meat of Finn's leg. Panting, dizzy with satiation, Finn drags Poe tight up against him, hand sliding down his body to grip his ass and teeth scraping his throat. It smears the wet mess of cum in Finn's pants between them, but Finn is melting into the shivering tension of Poe's body, too distracted by the roll and swell of his ass and the thick scent of his body to care.

When Poe cums it's rigid, throat bared against Finn's lips, hips rubbing out short little circles against his thigh. Finn keeps his eyes closed, tastes the sweat on Poe's skin, hears the satisfaction in his panting breath, feels the tension leach from him quickly. He slumps away from Finn just a little and Finn rolls easily to follow, arms draped around him, boneless and breathing heavily into the little hollow of Poe's collarbone. The knuckle of Poe's thumb pinned between them digs into Finn's stomach and a familiar deep muscle ache begins creeping back in at the edges of Finn's awareness. Poe's mostly free hand tangles with Finn's fingers curled in his hair and laughter, low and breathless and delighted, rumbles through his chest beneath Finn.

“Stars, I haven't gotten off like that in ages,” Poe groans happily. Finn lifts his head with an inquisitive grunt, working his arm out from under Poe's head to better balance himself half laid atop him. His fingers tingle from poor circulation and he rolls his wrist as Poe works his hand free of the trap between their two bodies. Finn edges away to give him room, flushes a little when Poe's hand pulls away sticky, bites his lip and averts his eyes. Poe hums thoughtfully.

“Gimme a minute here,” Poe says, wriggling out from under Finn. With a deep, sucking breath, he eases himself upright and off the cot, onto his feet. Head settled into his pillow, Finn watches him go, silent and a little bewildered. Poe catches his eye, open, dopey smile stretching across his face, leans down towards him with his clean hand propped on the edge of the bed.

“I'll be right back,” he assures, low voice and the little kiss he places at the corner of his mouth making Finn's breath stutter. Then Poe's walking away, stiffly and a little bow-legged, and Finn settles on his back with a sigh. He watches the edge of the privacy screen Poe disappeared around until the sound of running water reaches his ears. Lethargy weighs heavy on him and something nervous and insidious is worming into his gut. Finn breathes deep, stares at the maddeningly familiar pattern of cracks on the ceiling, tries to tamp down the impulse creeping into the back of his mind to read too much into Poe's nonchalance. Without distraction, his discomfort and nausea trickle back in alongside, and Finn clings to the sound of shuffling and rummaging Poe's making just adjacent to him to stay centered.

Just short of being swept back under sickness and fatigue, Poe returns from around the privacy screen, all warm smiling that keeps Finn buoyed on the surface. He's still shirtless, an easy distraction for Finn to latch onto to dampen his anxiety. At a distance he has the time to give Poe a good, sweeping study, to appreciate his lean, compact build that is fit, but nowhere near peak. Poe grins in delight of Finn's sleepy scrutiny. He shrugs, gestures out an arm draped with two sets of fresh hospital pants, uses his other hand to pass Finn a bunched up towel that is damp and warm to the touch.

“Thought you might wanna,” Poe trails off into vague motion, shrugs again, awkwardly. Finn shifts up into a sit with a measure of difficulty, throwing Poe out of his fidgeting to help ease him upright. As he readjusts his weight, Finn thanks him softly, eyes turned down, embarrassed by his continued infirmity. He twists the towel in his hands and Poe squeezes his upper arm, rubs the back of his shoulder, sends liquid warmth trickling down his spine.

“Figured you probably didn't wanna get all gross and crusty,” Poe tells him with an amused huff. Finn smiles down at the bed and Poe's hand slips from his shoulder. “I'm gonna change real quick,” he says, drawing away, leaving one pair of pants draped over Finn's blanketed legs. “I'll be right over there.”

He slips away and Finn lifts his head to watch him go, sees him duck around into a thin semblance of privacy. In the low light, Poe's silhouette is too diffused against the screen to be recognizable, but the shift of fabric is unmistakable and sets Finn's mind off on a little tangent, visualizing a more complete study of the areas of Poe's body he already mapped out with his thighs and hand. With a fidget and a swallow, he drags his eyes away to focus on the state of his own clothes. He shimmies his pants down to his knees, mindful of not dipping his sheets in the mess they reveal, and cleans himself up in a few efficient swipes. The motion of the warm towel alone is enough to rethread him with just the faintest hint of arousal, though he’s still wrung out enough that a small twitch is the most the memory of Poe's hand on him musters.

Clean enough to his own satisfaction, Finn is carefully working his pants the rest of the way down his legs when Poe comes back around the screen. He's in his own pilfered set of inpatient pants, bold as brass, his soiled pair wadded in one hand. For one long, unabashed moment, Finn catches the way Poe's eyes trail over the exposed length of his hip and thigh that his bunched down sheets have revealed. It's a hungry look that quickens his blood, makes him lick his lips and shift enough to break Poe's concentration, snap his eyes up with an almost apologetic smile. Finn matches the smile, draws a nervous breath while he has his attention.

“Poe,” he starts carefully, his trepidation thick in his voice because Poe doesn't even answer, just waits, face open and attentive. “It's uh,” Finn swallows, huffs a breath of air out around the anxiety curling back into his chest. “That's not it, right?”

Poe coughs out a scoffing laugh, looking at Finn with a wince, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Wow, harsh,” he says, voice joking yet tight. Finn gulps in horrified realization and looks straight at Poe, eyes wide and mouth slack.

“No, I meant-” he sputters, his sudden urgency overriding his hesitance. “I meant us! I meant- this wasn't just cuz you felt bad for me, right? This wasn't just a one off thing?”

Poe blinks, jerks his head a little, before a genuine smile breaks across his face. “Buddy, it's whatever you want it to be,” he declares, a hint of eager hope lighting his eyes. Finn beams back at him, a little bubble of emotion swelling in his chest.

“Okay,” he says softly, biting his lower lip and grinning, looking away. “I don't want it to be. I don't want just a one time deal.”

The edge of his bed dips with added weight and Finn tilts his head to see Poe lean towards him. His shoulder knocks against Finn's and he grins, broad and dopey. “Whatever you want, man,” Poe says, biting his lower lip and meeting Finn's eyes with just a little hesitance. “You've got it.”

Finn beams back at him, the emotion in his chest fluttering up into his throat. He leans into the small space left between him and Poe, touches their foreheads together. For just a moment he pushes aside his nausea and illness, his exhaustion and anxiety, even his fear of losing this safe place he's found, and kisses Poe softly. He tugs his sheets up for a bit more dignity and as an irrepressible smile pulls at his mouth, he feels Poe's lips on his matching the expression.

**Author's Note:**

> KR'd is absolutely ripped from this thread that actually turned itself into endearing loose world-building: http://kyraneko.tumblr.com/post/143636502796/mooglemisbehaving-beka-tiddalik


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